


Bacha Posh

by Shahnaz



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Prototype setting, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shahnaz/pseuds/Shahnaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Prototype world, where the Human Singularity and King of the Seven Seas was born as a girl, with many of the same challenges that faced him in the main universe, but a few unique ones of her own, but with the same determination to change the world for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacha Posh

**Author's Note:**

> Bacha Posh: The practice where a family that has no sons, or no living male relatives would take a daughter, and have her live and work as a boy, granting her privileges that other girls would not have, and to avoid the social stigma of having no male children. 
> 
> This fic is taking elements from Prototype ideas for Magi, including how Sinbad was at one point conceived as a woman, and is intended to only cover fragmentary parts of The Adventures of Sinbad/Bokuen no Sinbad that might diverge based on this fact. I wanted to see how similar, and how different a woman Sinbad would be based on a variety of factors. 
> 
> I encourage comments and discussion.

“Simin! Simin, come here!” Esra called out to her daughter soon as the soldiers left, her golden eyes wet with tears as the little girl ran over. 

“Mom… what are those soldiers doing here? Does it mean that daddy’s coming back?” The child asked, staring between her mother and the narrow box on the table. “Mom?” She started. “Dad’s okay, right? He just… sent a gift back, right?” Her voice was pleading now, the more her mother shook, maybe if she kept asking, the upcoming answer would change, that – that….

“I’m sorry,” the answer came out in a sob as the woman pulled the violet-haired girl to her chest, fingers running over her head. “I’m so sorry, but daddy’s not coming back. It’s just us now.” Esra choked back, but even then, Simin could feel those hot tears falling from her face, hitting her scalp, and her own throat tighten and choking as almost inhuman sounds tore it’s away free. 

She didn’t know how long they were crying, but they only stopped long after the tears were used up, long after it became nearly impossible to breathe, and long after her heart threatened to shatter with every beat. 

Then Esra set her down, at first acting like everything’s okay, grilling the fish despite that neither one had an appetite, but they ate almost automatically. And despite the pain in her heart, she ended up drifting off to sleep as soon as her mother forced her to bed. The next week was just numbing blur, only highlighted by people actually coming over to give their sympathies or pay respects, though both women were too grief-stricken to really recognize that this was the start of their acceptance among the villagers, just happy that they weren’t coming to throw salt into their wound. 

A month then passed - uneventful until one day Simin returned home from drawing water, she found her mother sitting on the floor, with a grim look on her face. 

“Simin, please listen, this is important.” 

“Mom…?”

“I don’t like to do it, but we have little choice now. You have no brothers, and I am not going to remarry just for the sake of safety, even if I could find someone willing to take the hand of an Expatriot widow.” She started to explain as she took the scissors and thread to Simin’s modest collection of clothes.

“What do you mean?”

“You were able to fish, and do other odd jobs before because you were with your father, but now – most men are too proud to hire a girl to work for them no matter how skilled they are.” She exhales. “And I’m afraid people might hurt you now if you go to the city alone.”

“But mom, I have no talent for weaving or sewing, how are we going to survive if no one’s going to hire me?” She knitted her brows, spreading her calloused hands out. “And what on earth are you doing to my clothes?”

“I know, and you wouldn’t be happy being stuck indoors all day sewing buttons back on.” Esra smiled sadly. “Skirts and dresses are fine for a young girl, but a boy can’t wear such things.”

“Wha- you’re going to make me pretend to be a guy? Wouldn’t people notice?”

“Of course no one would think I would suddenly have a son overnight, but it’s a polite fiction – so men who are shorthanded but too proud to ask a woman for help can pretend they didn’t know.” 

“So I just walk out in boy clothes, and it works just like that?” Simin questioned skeptically as her mother held out one of her darker skirts she just finished transforming into a baggy pair of pants, and then pulled out a white tunic, followed by a faded blue wrap. 

“Well, you’ll have to start by going by a different name – and put these on, let’s see how you look.” 

“But my name is part of who I am… what name would we use anyways? I mean, it wouldn’t work if I don’t answer to it,” The violet-haired girl stood up, and started to undress, subconsciously turning her back to her mother – her heart skipping a beat as she pulled the harem pants up, and draped the tunic over her frame, tucking it into her pants. It took a bit longer to do the wrap, trying to recall how her father had done it with his own clothes. 

“We didn’t know if we were going to have a girl or boy while I was pregnant with you, and we decided to have a name ready for either one. I chose Simin for a girl’s name, and Badr chose Sinbad for if you were a boy.”

“Sinbad,” She rolls the name off her tongue. “So – I just start introducing myself as Sinbad, and not let anyone call me Simin then?” Then she hesitated. “Do I have to be a boy my whole life?”

“No, of course not. If you find a man who would love you, or found your way to another land that is more understanding, you can go back to being a girl.” She explained. “Are you finished? Let’s see how you look.”

“Yes, it just feels kind of weird, though.” She took in a deep breath, and turned around – eliciting a startled gasp from Esra. “Mom…? Mom, what’s wrong?” 

“Ah… you just… you just look so much like your father like that.” She stood up; dropping the dress she was ripping the seams out of, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. “We’ll just have to cut your-“

“No! I’m not cutting my hair! I won’t!” She practically thrashed in Esra’s arms, stamping her feet against the ground. 

“Sim-“

“Call me Sinbad.” The girl whispered, trying to accept it as her own name. “Dad liked my hair long, and I’m keeping it like that, just – let me have this, please.” The girl pleaded, feeling the hot sting of tears in her eyes. 

“Of course,” Esra nodded, resting her head on her daughter’s shoulder. “Just remember, you’re still you, no matter what dress or name you go by, you’re still my child. And I’ll always love you.”

***

The women momentarily went silent as Sinbad entered with bags of dried dates in arm, and the two girls her age started blushing brilliantly – Yasmin even covered her face. She didn’t need to be able to read minds to see that they were likely having women’s talk, the sort that men aren’t supposed to be privy to. Ever since her mother started taking ill, they started to have meetings in their house as so Esra wouldn’t get left out.

“Put those up, and let your hair down, you should hear this too.” The eldest woman – Ehsan called out, using the coded message the women of Tison had unintentionally created, a signal that it was okay to stop pretending for a few hours. Esra nodded when she took her place next to her mother on the bed, undoing her hair tie, letting her hip-length hair fall freely, hands pushing up to pull them from her face. 

“So, Sinbad – had you seen any men in the cities?” Another woman asked as she cradled her sleeping infant. 

“You asked me this before – and the answer’s the same - they’re mostly men too old to be pressganged or worthless cutthroats.” She shook her head. “I heard they’re lowering the age of army service again and focusing hard on rounding up deserters.”

The announcement was met with angry mutters and sounds of disbelief. “At this rate, they’ll be arming babies!”

“Oh Bina, please don’t say things like that.” The young mother pleaded. 

“If I’m right, it means they’ll be gathering boys around your age, Sinbad.” Esra murmurs softly, her expression briefly darkened in thought.

“What would happen if Parthevia has no more men?” Someone called out at that.

“Ugh, it means Reim wins and they’ll make us marry their men. Or make us slaves. You know they keep slaves? That’s what I heard.” Said the needle-nosed Soraya, who always spoke like she was a font of secret knowledge.

“Or we refuse to submit and then die out as a people.” Roshani spoke up, her hazel eyes focused on the floor. 

Sinbad sat back and listened to the same old arguments and worries as her mother rested her head against her shoulder. Ever since ‘taking the tower’ became Parthevia’s strategy, the men – even ones who already served had been disappearing at an alarming rate, until the point in Tison, there were only five of them left, and they were all under the age of ten. She wondered what they thought was important for her to hear, as she just waited for the older women to calm down.  
“Ladies, we’re getting off track.” Ehsan cleared her throat, a gesture that reminded the young woman of a bobbing rooster, though she knew better then to point out that similarity out loud. “Sinbad, we were just talking to Yasmin and Roshani about the lunar cycle,” She gestured to the teenage girls.

“Grandma! Sinbad’s -” Yasmin nearly shrieked, tugging her pigtails in front of her face, causing both Sinbad and Roshani to roll their eyes, though the latter least tried to hide it. 

“A girl like you two, I don’t know why you keep forgetting that.” She continued, cutting her granddaughter off. “You’re all at ages where you are going to change from girls to women.” 

Sinbad groaned, not liking where the conversation is starting to head towards. It makes perfect sense for them to sit her down to talk about it, but generally these talks are followed up by marriage talk, and she didn’t want to even think about giving up the freedoms she had come to see as normal.

She can’t deny how useful it’d be to know, but she was glad when it was over, pulling her hair back. “Okay mom, I better head back to work,” She leans in, kissing her forehead as the rest of the villagers started to return to their tasks. “I’ll be home late tonight; they’re expecting a lot more ships today.”

“Take care,” Esra smiled up at her, touching her face. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything but be kind and be brave, all right?” Her smile grew wider at seeing her daughter nodded. “Good, now don’t let me keep you.”

“Sinbad!” A voice called out about as soon as she stepped outside.

“Roshani?” She blinked as the brunette girl ran towards her. “What’d you need?” 

“Uh… Can you take me to the city with you?” Roshani fidgets with the hem of her skirt. “Mom won’t let me go by myself, but I really need to try to sell the thread we’ve been making, and She can’t leave my baby brother alone yet...” Then she bows her head. “So take me with you, and – oh this is so embarrassing - Please pretend to be my fiancé while we’re there! Okay?”

“What? Why?” Sinbad gaped; staring at the girl’s reddened face, scratching her cheek. 

“Because I’d feel a little safer, I don’t like the way some of those city guys had looked at me the last time I went.” She explained. “I mean it’s just pretend for a few hours, we don’t have to do anything, y’know?”

“Okay, I get what you mean – I swear that you’re safe in my hands!” The violet-haired girl declared, pointing a finger to her chest, before putting an arm around the taller girl’s shoulders. “If you’re ready, we should head out now, it’s going to be a bit of a walk.”

For the first half-mile, the two girls were quiet, Sinbad had her fingers laced behind her head, and Roshani twirling the basket in her hands before she peered up, glancing to Sinbad from the corner of her eyes. “Sinbad. Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you want, I wanted to know, but the elders said it was rude and-”

“Yesss…?” Sinbad cuts her off before the other girl could get herself too worked up about whether whatever she’s going to ask is appropriate or not.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“You know, being a boy.” Roshani started to slow down, pushing her bangs from her hazel eyes. 

“Uh. Well. It’s different?” She shrugged, tapping her chin. “I mean, I still consider myself a girl even if I don’t really act like one? But, I think strangers tend to respect me more than they would if I was wearing a skirt, I’m not cooped up in one place needing protection, and I can travel without getting hassled. It’s a lot of responsibility too, and it’s kind of frustrating.”

“How so?”

“The moment it’s too obvious that I’m a girl,” Sinbad vaguely gestured to her flat chest, glancing over at Roshani’s somewhat more developed bust with a mix of envy and sympathy. “I’m gonna lose my ability to get work, never mind that I’m still the same person as before. It just shouldn’t matter, but it does.”  
“And I bet Yasmin acting like an idiot isn’t helping. I’m not sure why she has such a hard time wrapping her head around you.” The other girl just shook her head.  
“No it does not.” And it was weird, some days it almost seemed like Yazmin was trying to woo her, only to suddenly avoid her like the plague, and would keep insistently she’s a real boy no matter what anyone else said. “Would you be fine getting home by yourself? I’m going to be working well after the sun sets, and you’re going to be done pretty quickly.”

“I think so, but if the Harbormaster wouldn’t mind, I rather wait for you.” The brunette suddenly looked away, hand resting on her cheek.

“Roshani… is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No. No… there’s nothing.”

“You always put a hand on your cheek when you’re trying to hide something.”

“No I don’t!” She yanked her hand away, eliciting a laugh from Sinbad.

“I was lying about that, but your reaction proves that you’re not just trying to sell thread.”

“Jerk!” Roshani puffed her cheeks, before deflating in defeat. “Oh… okay. Sinbad, the thing is.” She breathes deeply. “You know how everyone in Tison likes my dancing? Like they say I’m really, really good at it?” 

“You’re thinking of dancing for sailors?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Just Dancing?” Sinbad gave a skeptical look. 

“Of course! I wouldn’t want any of those smelly guys touch me, that’d be gross!” She cringed, fingers curling. “Ew! Ew! I don’t even want to think about it! Sinbad, why did you have to bring that image to mind?”

“I wanted to make sure it’s just that.” The smaller girl sighed, resting a hand on Roshani’s shoulder, leaning in close. “I know you, you wouldn’t be happy like that, and you’re really sweet. You deserve to be treated like a princess.” She takes a breath. “Where are you thinking of dancing?”

“Uh, on the streets, not far from the docks. I don’t think I’m ready to do it in a bar yet.” 

“That’s honestly probably the safest pick, a brothel expects you to do more than dance, and I really don’t trust lot of those tavern keepers, they’ll try to take all of your money. Why are you so interested in earning money, anyways?” She tilted her head, knitting her brows.

“Well, I was thinking. We try, but you really do the lion’s share of the work, and I just didn’t think it was fair that it was all on your shoulders.”  
“But I-”

“Don’t mind or complain, I know, but that’s why I’m determined to figure out how to help. You do so much for everyone with just a smile, especially given how badly our parents used to treat your family. Sinbad, I can’t do the same things you do, but I want to do something.” 

“Roshani…” She rasped, finding herself slowly smiling. 

“See! I knew it’d make you feel better having an extra hand,” The brunette grinned, twirling in place. “We’re almost at the gate, so start acting like a boyfriend, okay?”

***

“So beside from the deserters we found, it seems that there’s a report of an unregistered young man from Tison,” Dragul explained to the soldiers driving the wagon before closing his eyes – tilting his head back.

“Unregistered?” Tabi whispered to Zamil in confusion.

“Yeah, apparently some Expatriots claimed they had a daughter on the register, but it was clear they had a son that’s avoiding service.” The other man shrugged. “Must be humiliating for the guy, being known as woman.”

“It seems ridiculous, especially going all that way just to grab someone.” They jolted as a knife slammed into the back of their seat.

“The law is the law; no one is going to be exempt from it.” Dragul growled at them, eyes flicking to the scorpion twitching under the blade. “We’re in need of soldiers, and if we let just one miscreant slip away, it would tell the Expatriots that they can get away with disrespecting Parthevia. Just keep driving.” 

“Yessir….” They nervously swallowed, unable to see the true reason for the knife. "God he's overbearing for a kid," one of them muttered - too low for the commander to figure out which one had said it.


End file.
